


The Artistry of Pleasure

by fimbrethiel



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Complete, Explicit Sexual Content, Language, Light Bondage, M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2585771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fimbrethiel/pseuds/fimbrethiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erestor prepares a surprise for his lover.  Erestor’s POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original date of completion: May 26, 2005

~*~*~*~*~  
  
I accepted the small, wrapped bundle from the maid and nodded my thanks, then closed the door behind her.  I snapped the string and unfolded the bit of parchment.  Into my palm fell a small, black stone; its obsidian surface was smooth, almost oily feeling, gleaming darkly in the lighted bedroom.  Written on the slip of parchment was a message, short and succinct, written in my lover’s flowing script.  
  
‘ _I will join you in one hour_.’  
  
The afternoon had passed with agonizing slowness.  Dinner was a tedious affair, despite the twins' occasionally raucous laughter and Glorfindel's playful banter.  Lindir’s absence was unremarkable; it was not unusual for my lover to practice straight through the meal and take a light supper later in the privacy of his quarters, or have his dinner delivered directly to the conservatory for his troupe of musicians.  
  
By the time the meal was over, I had almost given up hope that my invitation would be accepted.  It was with no small measure of exhilaration – and a goodly mix of apprehension – that the message from the chambermaid was finally delivered and the answering stone returned.  
  
The significance of the stone?  The game we had played for many a year, as a way to keep our lovemaking new and exciting, was very simple.  Two interchangeable bits of stone:  one question, two possible answers.  The presentation of one stone signified the question – “ _Will you_?”  
  
The stone I delivered was a pink, smoothly polished bit of quartz, slipped unobtrusively into his pocket during an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a surreptitious lick to the pink shell of his ear.  By the time Lindir pulled back, surprised by my uncharacteristic behavior in such public surroundings, I had moved away and was already involved in a discussion with Elrond and Glorfindel.  Lindir caught my eye, and I gave him a sly wink and quickly maneuvered Glorfindel between us.  
  
My lover’s response in the affirmative was indicated by the return of the second stone – a small chunk of highly polished black quartz no bigger than an arrowhead – the answer equally as simple as the question:  “ _I will_.”   
  
Tonight I issued the invitation, but Lindir equally initiated our games. Some of our games were successful, and some less so.  I recalled with some discomfort the experiment with hot wax, which left reddened welts upon my fair skin for two days.  Lindir had been horrified and guilt-ridden over the injury he had caused, even though I had assured him there was no permanent harm.  
  
Other games had left us doubled over with laughter… the feather incident immediately came to mind.  In all our years together, I had never realized how ticklish my lover was, especially in that one particular spot just above the bottom of his ribs.  The harder Lindir had giggled, the less control of my own mirth I had, until we fell back on the bed howling with laughter and clutching at each other.  Ultimately the game was forgotten, and the remainder of the night was spent in making the beast with two backs.  
  
It was a good night.  
  
Realizing the time was passing more quickly than I had anticipated, I bathed and washed my hair, then toweled it dry and braided the raven mass into a loose single braid in the fashion he liked to see it worn when we were alone.  He always said he liked the way it felt coiled around his hand when he rode me.  
  
As I dressed in a long, cobalt bed robe that was left belted loosely around my waist, I went over my plans and checked my supplies with almost obsessive fervor.  The details had been in the making for months, the equipment delivered weeks ago, the invitation mere hours before, but I was nervous despite the extensive planning.  
  
Just before the hour was up, I hurriedly spread a thick blanket over my preferred bed coverings of luxuriant cottons and silks, then gathered my toys and arranged them carefully in a large woven basket along with a few small hand towels.  
  
Before closing the lid, though, I hesitated and perused the contents carefully.  One item caught my interest.  Smiling slyly, I tucked the basket out of sight under the bed and carried my treasure to the bathroom.  It was stowed safely out of sight, hidden among a stack of bath towels within easy reach.  
  
Lindir had no idea what was in store for him.  
  
 _*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*_


	2. Chapter 2

~*~*~*~*~  
  
In precisely one hour, the knock I had been expecting came.  Lindir was always prompt – no ‘fashionably late’ for my lover, a fact I often teased him about.  I opened the door and greeted him with a smile and kiss on the cheek, then pulled him inside and slid the bolt securely home.  
  
For the trek from his rooms to mine, Lindir wore a bed robe belted loosely about his slim waist, paired with loose sleep pants.  His feet were bare, and his silken black locks were unbound and flowing about his shoulders, scented faintly with a rinse of chamomile and peppermint.  
  
Though we had been lovers for decades, separate quarters were simply a matter of practicality for us.  Often Lindir lost track of time while practicing or composing and did not fall into bed, exhausted, until the wee hours of the morning.  I arose early and was often working at dawn’s first light.  
  
“I hope I’m not late, love,” Lindir apologized, taking my hands in his and kissing the fingertips gently.  “Galadriel and Celeborn will be arriving in less than a week, and the songs are nowhere close for presentation.  I lost track of time and had to hurry.”  
  
“Not at all, you are surprisingly punctual for a change,” I teased gently as I took him into my arms and gave him a more proper welcoming kiss.  His lips were warm and slightly moist, his mouth eagerly parting to accept mine.  I couldn’t resist giving his tongue a tiny flick with mine when we pulled away.  
  
Stepping back, I held him at arms’ length and really took a good look at my lover.  Lindir’s eyes were drawn and sported dark circles under them  – it was clear he was exhausted.  He held himself stiffly, confirming without a doubt that he was tense and sore from many hours hunched over his compositions and harp.  Mentally I berated myself for choosing tonight of all nights, while Lindir was preoccupied with the upcoming performance for the rulers of Lothlórien.  
  
“We don’t need to do this tonight, Lindir.  Forgive me, I didn’t think of your recital.”  
  
Lindir smiled ruefully back.  “I’m fine, Erestor.  I made the choice to accept, after all,” he said.  “In truth, we needed a respite from the constant practice, so I gave everyone an evening off.”  
  
Smiling with relief, I grasped Lindir’s hand in my own and tugged him encouragingly toward the bed.  “Come, let me ease your fatigue.  Lie down and I’ll give you a massage.  Would you like that?”  
  
“That would be blissful,” Lindir murmured, following behind me, looking around the room curiously.  My chambers didn’t appear to be appreciably different from the way it usually did, with the exception of the blanket spread out over the usual bed coverings.  “So, what have you come up with for tonight?” he queried.  
  
“Something special, but that can wait,” I replied, untying the sash of  his dressing gown.  I kissed the tiny hollow above his delicate collarbone while slipping the robe from Lindir’s shoulders.  “You are so tense!  Lie down, my love.”  
  
He allowed me to remove the rest of his garments – the robe draped over a chair, sleeping pants untied and dropped over narrow hips to the floor – and he stretched out face down on the bed with an exaggerated sigh of appreciation while I knelt over his thighs.  
  
“Let me tie your hair back first,” I said, and quickly braided the thick mass into a silken rope.  There was a bottle of light, sweetly scented oil in a bedside drawer, so I leaned over and removed it, then popped the cork and poured a palm full of the liquid to warm between my palms.  With long, slow, firm strokes, I worked the oil into the skin, massaging up and down Lindir’s slender back.  Every so often, he would hiss and flinch from a particularly sore spot, so I would knead and work the knotted muscles until they were warm and flexible.  From the small of his back, up to his neck, I worked steadily, easing the tension from my lover’s body, digging in more firmly here, using gentle, soothing touches there.  
  
Before Lindir had even arrived in my chambers, I had been aroused from the mere anticipation of what was to come, going about chambers half hard already and resisting the temptation to bring myself to release.  Those soft sighs and mewls of pleasure he emitted periodically were so reminiscent of the whimpers and purrs that would escape the rosebud mouth when in the throes of passion that, despite my intentions to let things proceed slowly, quickly had my cock standing fully at attention.  Sitting aside Lindir’s thighs working up and down his slender back and across his tense shoulders worked my erection into the snug, warm cleft of his backside.  
  
To hell with patience.  Although we are of the Firstborn, and therefore – for all intents and purposes – immortal, fortitude cannot compete with a raging hard-on.  
  
Utterly relaxed and in the first stages of a light doze, Lindir didn’t notice the silken strips of fabric I slipped out from under the pillows and knotted around his wrists until they were pulled tight and tied off to the corner posts of the headboard.  
  
“Wha….” he stuttered, coming to full awareness with a start.  
  
I chuckled.  “You were getting a bit complacent, my lover.  I wanted you relaxed, not asleep.”  
“What are you doing, Erestor?” the minstrel demanded, pulling on the restraints experimentally.  
  
The bindings were more for show than anything.  If he had really wanted to, he probably could have broken free of those pathetic straps I had used to secure him with.  While Lindir’s appearance is that of an ethereal, slender waif, years of hauling heavy instrument cases and trunks full of sheet music have left him with wiry muscle and a strength that outstrips mine concealed under his flowing robes.  
  
My robe tangled under my legs, clinging to Lindir’s oiled flesh, and I tugged it from underneath him impatiently.  “At the moment, I am admiring the fetching picture you make, bound and glistening with oil,” I replied.    
  
I stretched lazily and arched my back, letting my eyes to roam freely over the bound form I straddled.  Lindir’s pale skin fairly glowed in the candlelight, the flesh pink and flushed from his massage.  Loose wisps of hair clung to the near-translucent flesh of the long, slender neck, where a tiny pulse fluttered gently just under the skin.  
  
There was no way, I knew, that I would manage to carry my plan further without some sort of relief.  The thought of abandoning the game for this evening and just fucking him right then and there was tempting, but somehow I restrained the impulse and forced myself to remember the months that had gone into the planning.  No, I reasoned, better a quick release now, then be able to later torment Lindir at my leisure.  
  
I untied my robe and left it hanging on my shoulders, but parted it, baring my chest.  I wiggled forward, my stiff cock pressed against Lindir’s buttocks.  A few drops of fluid seeped out, so I rubbed the tip up and down over the cleft of the my lover’s ass, knowing it would shake off the rest of his drowsy haze and drive him into a lustful frenzy.  
  
“Mmm, I can smell the heat of your body already,” I murmured, reaching for the oil, and drizzled a thin stream over my erection and into the palm of my hand.  I stroked my shaft with long, slow, greasy strokes, while Lindir squirmed around underneath me.  
  
The low state of arousal I had maintained all afternoon quickly flared into a full-blown, raging assault.  My breath quickened, and I panted, “I hadn’t planned on indulging myself in this manner, but I find I can’t resist the temptation.”  
  
I continued stroking, my motions on my cock becoming faster, making sure the minstrel could hear my rasping breaths as I grew more aroused.  I licked a hot, wet trail up from the top of Lindir’s buttocks halfway up his spine, as far as I could reach, and blew a warm breath across the dampness.  Lindir shivered.  Every trace of his earlier fatigue was gone now; it was obvious from the way his slender hips tried to rub against the blanket and the pale flush that rose on his cheeks.  
  
“Mmm, that feels good,” I moaned, thrusting into my slick fist.  “I’ve been hard for hours, thinking about tonight.”  My cock wept clear drops, and on each outward stroke, I smoothed them over the tip, mingling my fluids with the oil.  My hand made a wet, slapping sound and I started to pump faster.  
  
“Oh, yessss,” I groaned, “it feels positively amazing.  I’m going to come, Lindir, all over you.  My seed will spray all over your back, and you will only be able to lie there.  Are you hard too?  I know you are; I can tell by the way you squirm.  You want to come too, don’t you?”  
  
Bound by the wrists and held captive by my weight, Lindir squirmed against the bed, trying to create friction to bring him to orgasm.  It must have been infuriating for him, yet arousing, to be deprived of fully half his senses in this manner.  He could smell the musk of my arousal as I could smell his, could hear the wet slapping of my hand against my own flesh.  Deprived of vision, he could not see the rosy blush that stained the pale skin of my chest as I neared climax, the manner my head tossed back, lower lip caught between even, white teeth, the way my eyes clenched in a grimace of bliss so intense it bordered on pain the moment orgasm swept over me.  
  
My body grew increasingly tenser, the wet slapping more rapid, until I bowed tightly and with a low moan brought myself to orgasm.  Thick, warm droplets of cream spurted over Lindir’s back.  Gradually my shudders slowed, and I slumped over, breathing heavily.  
  
A single pearly droplet landed high on his shoulder, near the crease of his neck.  Craning sharply, he strained to capture that bit of my essence with his tongue and groaned softly, rolling the bitter droplet around tongue.  
  
“You could not save that for me?” he chastised, looking up at me from the corner of his eye.  
  
I smiled faintly down at him as my pulse slowed, and wiped the mess from his back with the corner of the blanket.  “It wasn’t a waste from this perspective.  It was a rather artistic display, if I dare say so myself.”  
  
“Get off me, you oaf, and untie me.  That was child’s play – I will show you  _true_  artistry,” Lindir growled over his shoulder, baring strong, white teeth in a mock look of ferocity.  
  
“Rather cheeky words, for one in your position,” I admonished, tweaking his rear.  
  
I could see him rolling his eyes.  “So this is all you had planned?  I would have stayed in the rehearsal room and continued to practice.”  
  
He knew perfectly well I was nowhere near finished with him yet, but sensing my lover’s mood, I played along with the ruse. “Not even close, dear heart.  We’ve barely begun.”  
  
I stood up and stretched again, then knelt down next to my bed so our eyes were level.  “All joking aside, Lindir, this is part of the game,” I said solemnly.  “Do you remember what to say if you want me to stop?”  
  
A few decades ago when we had first started these bedroom games, we established a word that we could use at any time if either of us sensed our play was escalating out of control.  The word –  _beard_  – was not to be used lightly, but we were each confident in our love and the trust we had in one another to be certain that if either of us were to say that word, all play would cease immediately, without repercussions.  Only a few times before had either of us ever had to resort to the ‘safe word’ – usually me, to my lasting displeasure.  
  
Lindir met my eyes evenly, and the cheeky bastard even had the audacity to glare at me.  “Have I ever told you to stop?” he retorted.  
  
“Rarely, it’s true,” I conceded, “but you haven’t yet seen what I had commissioned from the Golden Wood.”  I fervently hoped Lindir couldn’t hear the relief in my voice that he was not going to halt our play after so much preparation.  
  
“Good gods, Erestor, that sounds ominous,” Lindir said.  He trusted me implicitly, but being bound – while exciting and arousing – while I schemed must have been a bit disconcerting.  I  _knew_  it was, because he had tied me up before, and I knew full well the apprehensions that came of not knowing what to expect.  
  
I chuckled.  “Ominous?  I would not say so, but I believe it would be prudent for you to cancel any strenuous physical activity tomorrow.”  
  
 _*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*_


	3. Chapter 3

~*~*~*~*~

“Well,” I said with a confidence I did not quite feel, “let’s get started.”

In truth, now that the time was here, I was nervous. Celeborn had assured me in his letters that his own Galadhel plaything was capable of much more than what I had ultimately agreed upon for my lover… which did nothing to lessen my apprehensions. Young Orophin was proficient at handling an astonishing amount of creativity on the Lord of the Wood’s part, but in my own case, I was hesitant to push Lindir’s limits too far or too fast.

It was now or never, or I would lose my nerve.

“Now then, shall we begin?” I asked him imperiously, taking on the efficient, clinical manner I habitually wore in Council chambers – the one that gave me the reputation of chill efficiency and cold logic.

Ha, I thought amusedly. If Elrond’s contemporaries could only witness the activities within my bedchamber, my reputation would be torn to shreds.

Reaching for the pillows I had thrown aside earlier, I held one up and swatted Lindir’s bottom lightly with the flat of my hand. “Now lift.”

“No.”

I blinked. “Did you just say ‘no’?”

“That is precisely what I said,” Lindir replied.

This was going to be easier than I thought. In truth, I had been uncertain how to broach the subject, and so it was with absolutely convincing skill, Lindir turned my own game on me and established his own rules.

Not only could my lover sing like a lark, compose breathtaking ballads, recite poetry, and play virtually any instrument by ear, but he was also an accomplished thespian. A decade or so ago, Lindir wrote and performed a dramatization of the Fall of Gondolin that had sent Glorfindel’s poor wife to their chambers, moved to tears, though his death and rebirth had occurred well before the two had even met and married. Even the exalted Lord of the Golden Flower had a suspicious shine in his eye, though he was obviously alive and well, none the worse for wear, and with a wife and three children to boot.

“Lift, I said,” and I smacked a bit harder this time. The delectable, pert bottom flushed rosy from my strike.

“And I said – no.”

Another smack sounded, and the precise brand of a handprint appeared on the other buttock. I hissed, “Lift. Your. Ass.”

Lindir flinched at the sharp sting, and finally, obediently, raised his hips and wriggled up awkwardly to allow me to tuck two thick pillows under his pelvis. One more pillow was maneuvered under his chest, so he lay flat on his stomach with his rear in the air and a bit of support under his upper body, easing the strain on his back and outstretched arms.

“You have been impertinent. I expect an apology is forthcoming?” I asked, slipping fully into the role he had cast for me.

Lindir laughed derisively. “I think not.”

Valar, how I love him.

“Then you shall be punished for your insolence,” I said haughtily, and drew the wicker basket out from under the bed.

Within Lindir’s limited range of vision, I spread a hand towel out on the bed and on it arranged a collection of objects neatly arrayed by size. In an orderly row lay an assortment of leather-wrapped dilators in graduated sizes, a jar of thick salve, and one last bundle wrapped in heavy parchment that I set a little off to the side but still within his sight.

“Ah…” was Lindir’s only response, though his eyes gleamed speculatively over the array of toys.

“Do you like what you see?” I asked, and smiled. It was a cold, calculating smile, with many white, gleaming teeth. A smile that would have sent anyone else but Lindir running for the border of Imladris as fast as their legs would carry them. I often practice that look in the mirror. It is an effective deterrent to unwanted behavior by two particular young Peredhil.

“It depends on what is in yon parcel,” Lindir said a bit hesitantly, tipping his head toward the mysterious paper-wrapped bundle the best he could. “What’s that?”

I tutted and wagged a finger under his nose. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

He eyed the bundle suspiciously, but remained silent.

Suddenly I couldn’t wait to begin. I rubbed my hands together, wondering how long it would be before Lindir begged me to stop and fuck him through those pillows and down into the floor. My cock was already twitching, nosing around eagerly under my robe, and working up the energy for another splendid erection.

Those smooth, rounded buttocks were so enticing, nicely pinked from the smacks I had given them. I spread Lindir’s buttocks with my palms, my long fingers spread around the perfect globes and baring his tiny, wrinkled opening. Leaning forward, I lapped delicately at the crease, skimming over the hole with a bare touch. Warm, moist breath bathed Lindir’s buttocks, and the pink pucker contracted and winked back at me.

Oh yes, we were ready to play. Yes, indeed.

I thumbed open the stopper on the jar and scooped a small amount of the thick salve on two fingers and sniffed. It was scented with eucalyptus and rose, heavy and smooth, much more slippery in consistency than our lubricant of preference, which we kept stored in matching phials in our bedside tables in a silly fit of sentimentality.

With one hand, I spread his cheeks apart again and stroked the pink, ridged flesh with my thumb, and then when the hole blinked again, I carefully slipped in one well-greased digit.

Snug, moist heat engulfed my finger with a welcoming squeeze. Lindir was always so tight, even the morning after we made love. I could never determine how he managed it – perhaps he was privy to one of Elrond’s healer secrets and had figured out a way to exercise that muscle, keeping it supple and strong? I made a mental note to find out.

Rotating, gently working the digit in and out, I stretched the tiny opening with one finger and used my thumb to press rhythmically against the smooth ridge between embedded digit and the fleshy wrinkled sac just below.

“Ohhh,” Lindir breathed, catching his breath a little. “That’s nice…” His hips started a slow rocking against the pillows under him. I knew he was as hard as I was already.

He groaned with disappointment when I removed my finger, but before he could protest overmuch, a smooth, cool object pressed against his slicked opening. There was a gentle circling of the wrinkled flesh, then light pressure as the dilator breached him and was seated in his passage.

“Oh yes, that’s more like it,” he sighed, closing his eyes happily and resting his face against the bed.

I clicked my tongue. “This will not do at all,” I fretted in jest. “I’ve used you too well, it seems.”

Lindir’s frame shook lightly as he struggled to stifle his laughter. “Please sir, may I have another?”

“Shush,” I shot back with a gentle pat to his bottom. “You’re being punished, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, sir,” he replied, struggling against a smile.

While he lay there rocking against the soft pillows under him, I eyed the succession of toys, thinking, and then finally reached for another one. I held it up, assessing its size, then laid it back down and moved along to the next. It too was greased well, then the smallest phallus was slipped out of its home and the tip of the larger was set in its place. This one was met with a bit more resistance, but a few gentle pushes had Lindir moaning softly and rocking his hips up from the pillows to meet it.

I teased his soft pouch – which was not quite as soft as it had been previously – with my salve-slick fingers. “More?”

“Yes…” Lindir replied breathily.

Again I reached for my toys and repeated the process. This time Lindir moaned when the dilator, the thickness of three of my fingers bunched together, penetrated him. His eyes closed, but the small smile on his face reassured me he was not in any distress. I hoped not, because we had a long way to go still.

“Lindir?” I asked attentively.

“Mmm.”

“More?” I pressed lightly on the flared end of the plug held in place by the strong muscle. The tip must have been resting squarely on his prostate, because he yelped and swore.

“Gods yes… more.”

“Remember, you can stop me at any time. Just say the word if you need to.”

“No…” breathlessly Lindir whimpered. “Don’t you dare stop, ‘Restor. More…”

The next dilator and the next were met with successively more resistance. I worked each plug in slowly and carefully, greasing each well and waiting until my lover’s body thrust up to greet the intrusion and welcome it before going any further.

Sleek muscles flexed and rolled under sweat-dampened skin, slick and shiny with oil and arousal. Between his legs, his sac was dusky and tight, drawn up snug against his body. Lindir’s cock pressed hard and throbbing into the pillows, pulsing with each heartbeat. He writhed and twitched against them, unable to gain friction against the soft fabric to bring himself to orgasm.

The skin surrounding the dilator was shiny and tight, no longer wrinkled but stretched smooth and pink where the object entered him. It was fascinating to see the muscle gape and yawn each time I removed one plug and replaced it with another.

I stood up walked away.

*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*


	4. Chapter 4

~*~*~*~*~  
  
Lindir mewled when I got up and simply walked away, leaving him there bound and aroused, with a plug in his ass.  
  
He was dumbfounded at first and called after me.  “Erestor?  Where are you going, love?”  He figured I was simply getting up to find something, or simply changing my position.  
  
But when he saw me walk into the bathing chamber and close the door behind me, he started yelling.  And the longer I was gone, the more his usually dulcet tones escalated in frantic anger.  Oh, he was furious.  
  
“Erestor, get back out here right now and untie me!  You miserable bastard!  You ill-begotten spawn of Morgoth!  How dare you leave me like this?  What the fuck are you doing in there?  Get out here now, you son of a bitch, and finish what you started!”  
  
On and on he raged, casting doubt as to my parentage and the virtue of my mother.  His furious tirade made me laugh in spite my current discomfort.   
  
Under other circumstances, Lindir adored my parents.  My mother doted on him and baked him sweets, gave him extravagant begetting-day gifts, and my dear father was fond of telling me – in Lindir’s presence, and with only a hint of a teasing smile on his face – that I was lucky to have found someone like Lindir who could tolerate a grouch like me.  
  
Though my poor mother would have been stricken blind if she happened to see the position her darling Lindir was in at the moment, and she would positively keel over dead if she had seen the position I - the apple of her eye – was in.  
  
I stood with one leg supported by the rim of the bathtub, my eyes clenched tightly shut in concentration while I slowly and with great care worked a well-oiled phallus into my own backside.  My cock curved up against my belly, bobbing gently in the warm, moist air with each tiny press of the object into my body.   
  
I was preparing myself for what I knew would be a wild and rigorous fucking.  
  
Lindir was quickly reaching the point where all rational thought would flee.  Once freed of his bonds, primitive, instinctive need would take over his over-sensitized body and he would abandon all caution, leaving no time for his usual loving and gentle preparation.   
  
I snorted and then winced when the movement caused me to press a bit too hard, shooting a bolt of pain through my backside.  
  
Loving, always.  But gentle?  Hardly.  More than once I had attended our Lord’s counsel with my body bearing the battle-scars of a night of Lindir’s attentions.  Few would believe the wildcat my usually placid lover became when in the heat of passion and the filth that could spew from his rosebud lips when he was of a mind.  He could curse like a Corsair of Men when he chose.   
  
And at the moment, beyond the solid wood door of the bathroom, his cursing was quickly reaching epic proportions.  
  
For decades Lindir and I had danced around one another within the borders of Imladris, giving each other coy looks and lingering touches of the hand during mealtimes and gatherings, but never going any further.  The interest was there, I could see, by the way his gaze followed me from time to time, but I thought he was simply shy, and therefore didn’t pursue him.  I figured if he were truly interested, eventually he would approach me.  
  
But one night, after an evening of rich food, beautiful music, and copious drink in the Hall of Fire, I somehow found myself concealed in a shadowed niche with Lindir’s tongue halfway down my throat and his hand in my trousers.  
  
No, Lindir was not shy by any stretch of the imagination, I soon learned.  We spent the first night of many together, and the next day in Chambers, if Elrond seated on my left side noticed that I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat and discreetly filched a pillow from one of the side chairs to sit upon, he didn’t remark on it.  I sent a thousand prayers to the Valar to shine Their light upon his House and all of his line for his discretion.  
  
Glorfindel was not quite so discreet, though.  He knew.  Somehow he always knows.  I sometimes think Námo must have granted that Elf an additional measure of foresight when he was kicked out of the Hall of Waiting.  He is my dearest friend, but I could have cheerfully skinned him alive with his own sword for all the smirking and lewd winks he gave me.  He knew, all right.  
  
‘ _Perhaps I overestimated a bit in my selection,_ ’ I thought.  My breathing was ragged, though I struggled to breathe deeply and regularly while working the solid bulk of the plug into my passage.   
  
I would be glad, I knew, that I had been so aggressive in my choice, even though my body struggled to accept something larger than what it was accustomed to.  Lindir is not especially thick, but he is long – his cock, like his body, is built for endurance, not strength.  I too play a variety of instruments, though not nearly as well as my beloved, and I know how physically taxing it is to remain in a single position for hours, playing.  That he is able to sustain for days upon end is a testament to his will and stamina.  
  
With a final gasp of relief as the object finally was seated, my head fell back and I stood with my thighs spread, waiting and breathing until the burning subsided into dull throbbing and marvelous fullness.  
  
The walk from the bath, through the bedroom, and back to the bed was incalculable anguish.  Each step pressed the phallus against my prostate, so I walked slowly and carefully, in tiny faltering steps so I would not spend myself on the floor.  For a fleeting instant I was tempted to stop where I was and take myself in hand, but reconsidered.  That would have ruined the mood entirely.  
  
But perhaps not… Lindir had always found the sight of me masturbating to be highly erotic.  
  
Lindir, bound and writhing, stopped in mid-curse and drew a sharp breath when I made my reappearance.  I can only imagine the sight I presented to him, with my hair wild and unkempt, tendrils escaping from my braid and curling about my face.  The blue silk robe was smeared about the hem with dark smudges of oil and spotted with droplets of my seed.  My cock jutted out red and hard from the front of my robe, so stiff it pointed almost straight up and drooling pre-come in a little trail of clear juices down the shaft.  
  
“Where the fuck did you go, Erestor?  Don’t you  _ever_  leave me like that again.  What were you doing in there?”  
  
Haltingly I crawled up on the bed next to Lindir where he could see me, moaning quietly each time the blunt tip of the dilator brushed my prostate.  “Just taking care of some pressing business, love.  Don’t worry, nothing for you to be concerned about,” I lied.  He had no idea what I had been up to… yet.  
  
Lindir whined and begged, his slim hips rolled and undulated against the pillow.  “Erestor, please…” his usual melodious voice was hoarse and rough, almost unrecognizable as being the same voice that could sing so sweetly.  
  
“Are you begging, lover?  Please what?  I want to hear you beg.”  I was surprised to hear the gravelly quality of my own voice, usually deep and smooth but now hoarse and raspy.  
  
“For the sake of all you hold revered… you want to hear me beg?  Fine – I’m begging, Erestor.  I can’t take much more – I need to come.  I’m dying – please,  _please_ , end this.”  
  
Since he begged so nicely, I thought it time to unveil the surprise.  I reached across his body and reached for the paper-wrapped bundle I had set aside earlier.  It must have been torture for Lindir to lie there staring at the wrapping, unknowing of what the last item was.  As I leaned over, the tip of my erection nudged his side and smeared a few clear droplets of my essence across his back.  My cock twitched, and I felt the first warning tightening of orgasm low in my belly.   
  
I settled back down on my haunches trying to ignore the firm press of the hard leather against my pleasure spot, breathing hard and struggling not to come all over him.  Again.  I snapped the string, unwrapped the bundle, and threw the parchment on the floor.  
  
Lindir’s eyes grew huge when he saw what was in the package and the realization of what I was asking of him began to penetrate his lust-drunk mind.  “Oh no, no, nonono, you can’t mean…” He shook his head vehemently.  
  
“That is precisely what I mean, beloved.”   
  
“But - but - it’s enormous, Erestor!” he protested in disbelief.  “It will never work!  You're right fucking insane.  It simply isn’t possible!”  His grey eyes began to show a bit of panic for the first time.  
  
He was right – it was enormous.  Did I really dare to do this after all?  But Celeborn had assured me on that drunken night in Lothlórien when my old friend first confessed of Orophin’s fondness for inordinately large objects that it was indeed possible, and first planted the seed of my idea.  Orophin, he said, with slow and careful preparation, had managed it, and much more.  How much more he didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t really want to know.  
  
I held the object up and examined it closely.  “It’s only a bit larger than what is in inside you right now.  Lindir, trust me.  I would never intentionally harm you, sweetheart.”   
  
“But…”  
  
I looked intently into his eyes.  He was tempted, oh so tempted, and I would never force him to do something he wasn’t fully willing to do, but aside from being painfully aroused, he was also a little frightened.  
  
“Lindir, listen to me.  If you truly wish to stop, you can stop me at any time by saying the word.  Unless you say the word, I’ll proceed.”   
  
I was frightened a little bit, too, but excited – probably more aroused than I had ever been in my life.  This was the ultimate challenge for Lindir.  I knew he wanted to.  He trusted me not to unduly harm him.  That wasn’t the issue – the issue was whether it was physically possible to take that monstrosity into his body.  
  
“Lindir?” I held it up again in a question.  “May I?”  
  
For a long moment he stared at it, licking his lips and considering.  Finally he bent his head and pressed his forehead into the pillow.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
 _*~*~* To be continued… *~*~*_


	5. Chapter 5

~*~*~*~*~

Inside that mysteriously wrapped package was a hand-carved wooden phallus, so realistic that each vein looked like it might begin pulsing at any moment. It was highly polished to a gloss, its surface had been scraped and sanded smooth, and then varnished with some sort of glazing that made it non-porous and as smooth as silk. The dilator was not especially long, but at its widest it was as big around as my wrist, with a bulbous glans at one end, flaring slightly along the shaft, then narrowing only slightly at the base so the body could grip it and hold it in position.

In a purely artistic sense, it was a thing of beauty. The dark, gleaming wood was streaked with rings of a light golden honey. Candlelight from the wall sconces glinted from its surface, so highly polished that I could see my reflection in it. Countless hours must have gone into its creation. It was a true masterpiece of graceful curves and harmonizing colors.

As a sexual object, it was menacing.

It looked gigantic when I had removed it carefully from the packaging the craftsman had delivered my toys in. It appeared even larger now, held in my hand alongside Lindir’s slender hips. I did, in truth, wonder how my slight lover would ever fit this inside him, but I kept Celeborn’s words in mind and reached for the salve.

Which was a very bad idea on my part. The phallus in my own body shifted again, and I had to stifle a groan. I sat back on my thighs keeping the pressure off my backside and took a few steadying breaths while my shaft twitched threateningly, ready to overflow.

When I thought my body was under control again, I touched his shoulder gently and gave him one last opportunity to change his mind. “Are you sure, Lindir? Absolutely sure you want me to do this?”

“For the sake of Mandos, just do it, Erestor,” he barked, clearly at the end of his tether. “I’m sure… but you will pay for this, you bastard.” 

Oops.

I should have figured that Lindir’s devious little mind would already be planning sweet revenge, but I would worry about his retribution later. I was excruciatingly aroused, my ass was on fire, my cock was dripping like a leaky faucet, and Lindir was grinding up and down on that pillow like a rutting mongrel.

My lover had been bound in the same position for a good while now, and I was a bit concerned about his comfort. But he seemed not to be in any great distress. He wouldn’t be tied up that much longer, anyway, so I decided to proceed.

I smeared the greasy salve all over the smooth wood, making sure every last bit was coated well, and laid the jar next to me within easy reach. We would need it again before we were through.

Slowly, carefully, and steadily I pulled the dilator from Lindir’s body. He whimpered a little when the thickest part spread him widest, but with another gentle tug, it finally pulled free with a wet squelching noise.

It was difficult to believe that the tiny pink pucker of less than an hour before could stretch to such magnitude. I can say with certitude that neither myself nor any of his previous lovers had ever been nearly as well endowed as what I proposed to stuff him with. I hoped my toy wasn’t going to spoil him.

Quickly, while his entrance was still wide and gaping, I inserted the tip and gently pushed, just enough to keep him loose and stretched for what was to come – which was, hopefully, him and me, and not necessarily in that order. 

Then again, after what I was putting him through, maybe I would be gracious and allow him to go first. I hoped.

Lindir lay with his forehead pressed against the mattress, his breathing hitching. When I slid in the very tip, he instinctively tensed against me.

“You must relax, Lindir, or you’ll be injured,” I admonished, again reaching for the salve. I scooped up a bit more and smeared it around the glans and shaft, and slicked a bit more around his anus, just for good measure.

He turned his head to glare up at me. “Erestor, you’re purporting to insert something roughly the size of a small continent in my ass. It's a little difficult to relax.” 

I smiled. My lover does have a way with words. It was a comfort to hear that biting wit – I knew he was not in danger of harm if he was able to banter so.

“Breathe, Lindir, you must trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Valar help me, I do.” He took a few slow, measured breaths, and I could see the tension drain from his body and feel his muscles relax under my hands. 

“Very good; now breathe slowly, just like that.”

A fraction of an inch at a time I started working the dilator into his passage, never pushing too hard, and stopping when I felt resistance. He would take another few breaths and I would proceed further. He panted and groaned, and every sound sent another vibration straight to my cock and made my arse twitch around its own solid packing.

Past the tip, the shaft flared a bit. At its largest circumference, there was one heart-stopping moment when I feared it was simply too large. I pushed, again very gently but insistently, but the dildo refused to proceed another inch. In spite of Lindir’s refusal to utter the word, I was prepared to abandon the game and stop. He had been through enough, and I wouldn’t take things further. He was stubborn, but I wouldn’t punish him for that mulishness. Things had already progressed further than I had ever hoped or dreamed.

“Lindir,” I wheezed, “I’m afraid to go any further. I’m going to stop.”

He shook his head frantically, his forehead again pressed to the bed. The blankets were wadded in his hands, and with each rasping breath he whimpered a bit.

“How much more?” His voice was harsh and muffled from his face buried in the sheets.

I blinked. He wanted me to continue?

When I didn’t respond, he repeated more loudly, his voice taking on a commanding tone I had never heard before, and one I never would have expected to hear from someone bound and virtually helpless. “How. Much. More?”

“You are almost at the thickest part.”

“Go ahead and do it.”

Oh Valar, he really did want me to continue. “I don’t know, Lindir. Are you in pain?”

“Nothing I can’t handle – just do it, Erestor.”

My mouth was suddenly parched, and I licked my dry lips with a leaden tongue. “If you insist on proceeding, I’ll need your help. Can you do that?”

He nodded against the blanket and uttered a sound that I surmised was a ‘yes’. He could very well have intended, ‘Fuck off and die, don’t even think of doing this to me again,’ but I chose to believe the former.

Struggling to keep the trembling from my voice, I instructed him in what I wanted to him to do. “I’m going to simply hold the phallus in place while you push very – VERY – gently. When you relax your muscles, your body will open and allow me entrance.”

He nodded again and took a few more deep breaths. The salve-slick, tight flesh around his anus bulged just the slightest bit when he exerted pressure, and when he relaxed, I counter-pressed. The phallus slipped forward a little more, and I held it in place while he pushed again. Bit by bit, the widest part breached his body finally the rest slipped in easily.

“Good boy,” I praised, gazing down at him while I wiped my greasy hands on my robe. 

His face was flushed and sweating. He panted and moaned, thrusting wildly into the pillows. His anus, stretched widely around the plug, was bright red, the normally pale pink skin bright red and glistening with lubricant and stretched smooth.

The tip of my braid fell over my shoulder, so I trailed the end over his buttocks, played it over his tight sac, and around that shiny flesh.

“Gods, Lindir, if you could only see how amazing you look…” I croaked. Never in all my years had I before, or have since, seen such an erotic, arousing sight as my beautiful, sensual lover bound by the wrists and split near in two. 

And the scent… if I could have bottled the scent, I could have become a very wealthy man. Lindir has an intriguing fresh fragrance of his own – somewhat spicy like mint, with clear herbal undertones. Add a dash of heavy oil, a few musky whiffs of male arousal, a trace of the metallic tang of semen, and a hint of clean, wholesome sweat, and Master Elrond would find himself extremely short-staffed. None in Imladris would ever leave their beds long enough to get any work done.

I untied my robe and let it fall on the floor. My cock jutted straight up, dripping with pre-come. It wouldn’t take much to set me over the edge – my sac was high and snug against my body, and that fluttering in my lower stomach wouldn’t relent.

Carefully, taking care not to jar the phallus inside my own body, I crawled up the bed on all fours alongside my squirming, panting, moaning lover and fumbled with the ties on one of his wrists. Once one hand was untied, I slid out of the way while he twisted and wriggled over on his side to push himself up toward the head of the bed.

Every movement must have been exquisite with pleasure-pain, because with each panting gasp of his breath, he mewled. He had long since given up trying to form coherent words; his vocalizations were reduced to indecipherable moans and whimpers. His cock stood straight at attention, all shiny with pre-come and almost purple in his excited state.

While he fumbled with the other wrist strap, I lay down beside him and spread my thighs. He could see that black, leather-wrapped dildo now, and understood then why I had escaped to the bathroom.

He was frantic, fumbling one-handed to free himself from the second bond while I finally grasped my aching cock with one hand and started working the plug in and out of my backside with the other. Valar, it felt so good after so long restraining myself.

Lindir panted and whimpered. I could only imagine how full and stretched he must have felt. The thought made me twitch. I didn’t dare stroke faster, because I was dangerously close to coming. That tingle wouldn’t stop; I stroked just barely quickly enough to keep myself on the edge without going over. 

He almost had his second wrist untied, but his eyes never left the view between my legs. Slowly I pulled on the dildo and groaned with disappointment when it finally slid out. I tossed it aside and found the salve again, scooped some up and slipped two fingers into my hole, thrusting them in and out.

The sounds that escaped Lindir’s mouth were unlike anything I had ever heard before – a cross between a mewl and a howl.

“Hurry, lover, I’m all ready for you,” I panted, one hand working my cock slowly, my own juices making my hands wonderfully slick, and the other delving deep inside, searching for my pleasure spot. “I want you. How badly do you want me? You must be full to bursting. Come fuck me, lover... I’m waiting.”

He was crazed with lust. The second strap simply would not untie, so he literally ripped it off the post and was on top of me almost before I realized what had happened. With a snarl, he shoved my thighs back and threw my ankles over his shoulders. One long, hard thrust later and he was buried all the way in my backside and immediately pounding in and out.

“Fuck, fuck… oh gods Valar, FUCK.”

He was too far gone to have any idea what he was saying or doing, only caring about that enormous phallus in his body, rubbing against his prostate, and his cock buried in my ass.

I was on the edge – he was wild. I stroked myself fast and furiously while his hard shaft plowed me raw. Gods, it was amazing. We’ve been lovers for years, but there has never been another night to rival that one for sheer lust. In about ten strokes I came furiously, howling, and spurted so hard I thought my spine would burst through my chest. I panted, riding out the waves of orgasm, my rear muscles clenching and unclenching, and that proved to be Lindir’s undoing.

He plunged deeply once, twice, and then screamed. I could feel my muscles stretching and burning around his erection, and then the hot spurt of his seed deep inside me.

Then he collapsed. His overtaxed body had given out, and he fainted.

“Poor baby,” I murmured against the sweat-slicked neck. When my own breathing had slowed, I wriggled out from underneath him and patted his cheek gently. Lindir blinked a few times and came back to me.

“Lie still, beloved,” I said, pushing a clinging tendril of damp hair back from his face. The look he gave me was utterly blank; he was still in a stupor from the tremendous experience.

“Lindir, I’m going to remove the phallus now. Breathe slowly and relax, love.” The words were pointless. I’m not sure he even knew where he was, or who he was at that moment.

I thought removing the dilator would be difficult, but he was utterly relaxed. He whimpered a little, but with less effort than I would have believed, the dildo slid out with a wet pop. His entrance was quite red, but he didn’t seem to have been injured.

I swept all the toys and the salve back into the basket and used a spare towel to wipe down our bodies.

“Rest, love, while I draw a bath for you.” He muttered something unintelligible. I walked gingerly to the bathroom, his seed still trickling from my body, and opened the hot-water tap from the hot springs. While the tub filled, I cleaned up our toys and swiped the remnants of his essence from my tender bottom. I would be sore tomorrow from Lindir’s frenzied lovemaking, but the discomfort I would feel would likely be nothing compared to his.

Back in my bedroom while the water reached a proper level in the tub, I tried to rouse him.

“Lindir…” I shook his shoulder lightly.

“Mmmph,” came the muffled reply. 

Carefully, so I didn’t have to move him more than necessary, I wadded up one side of the soiled blanket and then helped him sit up. Once he was up and leaning heavily against me, I jerked on the blanket and the rest of it came off. I left it lying on the floor and pulled down the sheets, making the bed ready for us when we were through bathing.

Lindir’s legs didn’t want to support him, so I carried him to the bath. Somehow I managed to maneuver him into the tub without dropping him. At last he was settled in the warm water between my legs, my thighs supporting his in order to keep his bottom raised, and let his head loll back against my chest. I sang softly to myself as I washed him clean, lathered and rinsed his hair. He dozed against my chest, his breathing slow and peaceful. From his slumber, he whimpered a bit when I ran the soft cloth over his bottom, so I was as careful as I could be.

At length I managed to rouse him enough to get him out of the water so I could dry him off and give his hair a quick, haphazard brushing. It would be a mess in the morning, but what he needed most was sleep, not coiffing, and I didn’t worry about it. Lindir loved for me to comb and brush his hair, so I didn’t think he would especially mind if we left it until later.

I carried him back to bed and lay him down gently, then crawled in next to him and pulled the sheets over us. For a long while I lay beside to my beloved, spooned around his body, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. Unconsciously, Lindir snuggled into my arms, and I sighed contentedly.

Valar, I love this Elf.

~*~*~ finis ~*~*~


End file.
